For All Or Nothing
by wwechick
Summary: Undertaker makes an announcement on RAW that at Survivor Series, he will wrestle his final match. He issues and open challenge. Someone accepts gladly. But what will happen when things turn personal...very personal?
1. Chapter 1

**For All Or Nothing**

**Chapter 1:**

Mark Calaway was standing backstage at RAW in his private locker room, adjusting his long black leather trench coat over his almost 7 foot tall frame. He stood in front of the mirror gazing at his reflection in front of him. He wasn't looking at Mark Calaway. He was looking at the character he had played for over 20 years: The Undertaker. He sighed heavily when he felt two hands rubbing his shoulders from behind.

"Honey," a soft female voice spoke. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Mark answered not taking his eyes off the mirror. "Just thinking."

Michelle McCool peeked from behind Mark's back and looked up at him. "About tonight's announcement?"

"Mmm-hmm." Mark turned his eyes down towards his wife. "I'm sorry, Michelle. I'm just nervous." Mark fully turned his body and pulled Michelle close into his arms. Michelle rested her head on Mark's chest as his hand reached up rubbing her head ever-so lovingly.

"Mmm. Is that cologne I smell?"

"Yep." Mark replied popping the 'p' with his lips.

Michelle looked up into his emerald eyes. "Who is it for, my big teddy bear?"

Mark chuckled deeply in his throat, caressing her cheek with his right thumb. "Nobody but you, my beautiful turtle dove." How they loved their pet names for each other.

Mark leaned down and lightly kissed his wife on the lips. He then kissed her again with more emotion. Their kiss was interrupted when there was a knock at the door and a stage hand spoke up. "10 minutes, Undertaker. You're up next."

Mark growled softly and rolled his eyes before answering. "Alright. Thank you." Mark looked down at Michelle, a blush on her face, and shook his head. "I guess we'll have to pick up on that later." He took a glance around the room. "Now...where is my hat?"

"Daddy! I'm you!" answered a happy little girl's voice.

Mark looked down at his left to see Kaia, his blond-haired angelic daughter, with his hat atop her head. Mark and Michelle laughed out loud.

"Um, Kaia," her father began to say. "I think that hat is too big for your little head, darlin'."

"Rest...in...peace..." Kaia answered in her best impression of her dad. Mark and Michelle broke out in laughter again.

"Gee, I wonder whom she got that from." Michelle said looking back at her husband. Mark shrugged playfully. Michelle looked down at her daughter again. "Okay, Mini Taker. It's time to give the hat back."

"Awww." Kaia moaned.

"Come on, now," Mark replied. "Hand the hat to your mother, please."

"Ooooh, okay."

Kaia took the hat off of her head and passed it to her mother as was requested. Michelle reached up and placed the hat atop Mark's head .

"How do I look?"

"Handsome."

"What does handsome mean, mommy?"

"It's a word used to describe someone that is cute."

Kaia looked at her mom quizzically. "Am I handsome too?"

Mark bent down so he was eye-level with his daughter. "Well...they have a different word that is used for women and little girls."

"What word is that?"

"Beautiful."

"Am I beautiful, daddy?"

A wide grin appeared on Mark's face. "Very beautiful...just like your mother. Could I have a hug?"

Kaia stepped forward and wrapped her small arms around her father's neck. He pulled her close into his arms, then began to sing softly to her as he did when he tucked her into bed at night.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away."

Michelle smiled as she looked down at the father-daughter duo and wiped a single tear from her left eye.

"I love you, daddy," Kaia said sweetly.

"I love you, too, sunshine." Mark said looking at his daughter before placing a light kiss on her left cheek. He picked her up and passed her to her mother. Mark huffed a quick breath , then cleared his throat. "Well...here I go."

Mark walked towards the locker room door and opened the door inward. Before walking out the door, he turned back to his family.

"We'll be watching, Mark."

"Good luck, daddy."

The right side of Mark's mouth turned up in a grin and winked at his 2 girls before walking out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

*BONG*

The crowd erupted in a deafening cheer in the arena as the gong signified the arrival of The Phenom The Undertaker. His eerie funeral dirge-like theme played over the speakers. Out he walked in his black gear and the crowd came unglued at his appearance.

"Ladies and gentlemen," came the voice of the ring announcer. "Please welcome, The Undertaker."

The Undertaker made his slow walk towards the ring. He ascended the steel steps, stopping at the top step. He rolled his eyes back and raised his arms up to bring up the lights. A thunderclap sounded throughout the arena. He entered the ring and stood in the middle eyeing the crowd. He walked to the left corner of the ring signaling for a microphone. He took his place once more in the middle of the ring. A spotlight in a dark shade of blue shown on Undertaker. The capacity crowd cheered for him and chanted his name.

"Undertaker! Clap-clap-clap-clap-clap"

Undertaker brought the microphone to his lips to speak. The crowd became silent in respect for him.

"There have been rumors circulating around the WWE about what my announcement would be here tonight. So before anymore speculation is made further, let me clear the air here and now. I have been a wrestler for a long time. I have been with the WWE for over 20 years. The WWE has been my home away from home. Let's face it. I'm not getting any younger. I've had countless injuries. But, that's what comes with the territory of being a professional wrestler; muscle tears, broken bones, concussions. Wrestlers get injured all the time, and eventually, it will catch up with you in the future. So, what I'm about to say is the toughest thing I've ever said.

I made my debut at Survivor Series and that is where it will end. At Survivor Series...I will wrestle for the very last time."

This brought on a chorus of boos from the crowd.

"I knew you all would react that way. I'm not happy about it either. I knew the day would come sooner or later. I've given my blood, sweat, and tears to this sport. If I could go back in time, I would gladly do it again, injuries and all. Next to the jobs of being a husband and a father to my wife and child, this is the best job I have ever had. There were people whom in the beginning thought I would not amount to anything in this business. They said nobody would by a ticket to see me wrestle. They didn't believe in me. But you guys did. I would not have made it in this sport without the support of God, my family, my friends, and of course, the best fans in the world, the WWE Universe."

The crowd applauded and cheered for Undertaker once again with chants of 'Thank you, Taker'.

"So...this is what is going to happen. I am issuing an open challenge to anybody in the back. Anybody who wants to face me at Survivor Series. I will be back out here later on tonight waiting for your answer, whomever you may be. However, be warned. It doesn't mean that I won't go easy on you. And you will rest...in...peace."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Mark made his way backstage and was greeted by his friend Glen Jacobs, known to the WWE as Kane. He extended his hand to Mark and he gladly accepted. Glen pulled him into a brotherly hug before holding him outward at arms length.

"Well, well, well," Glen began. "I never thought I would see the day. The day that Undertaker announces his farewell match."

"You and I both know it was bound to happen one of these days, Glen."

"Yeah, I know. It just seems like a dream."

"I'm afraid it's not a dream."

"You're right," Glen answered with a light slap to Mark's cheek. "So who do you think will challenge you?"

"Not sure. Anybody that wants to step up to the plate is more than welcome." Mark decided to change the subject. "Hey, I brought my wife and daughter here with me to the show. Do you want to stop by the room and say hello?"

"Really?"

"Sure," Mark replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "I'm pretty sure you like to see them, especially Kaia. She was so excited when I told her last week that she and her mother would be here tonight."

Glen smirked. "Is that right?"

"Yeah. When I told her about the show last week, she asked me," Mark mimicked his daughter's gasp and her surprised expression. "Is Uncle Glen gonna be there too?"

Glen laughed out loud along with Mark. "So apparently, I'm her adopted uncle. What are we waiting for?"

Mark led Glen to his locker room. "I tell you, Mark. You have that little girl wrapped around your finger."

"What can I say? I love that little girl."

"And she loves you."

The two friends walked along just chatting away like friends do. However, when they were almost to Mark's room, Paul Levesque, known to the WWE as Triple H, hurried towards them. Paul was out of breath.

"Mark. Thank God."

"What's going on, Paul?"

"Something's happened. Your room is a massacre."

"Massacre?" Mark and Glen asked at the same time.

"Furniture turned over, clothes everywhere. But there's something else."

Mark didn't give time for Paul to finish as he made a beeline towards his room. Mark He bardged through the door, which was only open a crack. It was just as Paul described it. In fact, it looked like an F5 tornado struck and ruined everything. Glen stepped in beside him and Paul stood behind the two men.

"Glen, can I borrow your phone?"

Glen passed Mark his phone and he dialed Michelle's phone number hoping she would answer. What he got was Michelle's phone going off inside the room. He walked over to a turned-over table and found her phone lying screen-down on the floor beside it. He picked it up and disconnected the call. He turned his eyes towards Glen handing his phone back to him.

"She never goes anywhere without it."

"Well," Glen tried reassuringly. "Maybe she doesn't know about it. Maybe she took Kaia to get a snack or something."

That's when Paul stepped beside Mark, note in hand. "Mark...this was left here for you. I found it taped to your door before I came searching for you."

Mark took the note from Paul's hand and read it silently. He soon began panting and his body began to shake.

"Oh, God, no." he whispered.

"Mark..." was all Glen could say.

"What does the note say?" Paul asked cautiously.

Mark's reply was a scream before he balled up his fist and punched a hole through a mirror causing a spiderweb design to appear in the cracked glass. Mark looked at his fist, which was bloodied from the broken glass. He brought his other hand to his stomach, feeling suddenly sick. He made it to the bathroom just in time to vomit into the toilet. It continued for another 15 seconds before the sickness subsided. He leaned back against the wall, tears streaming down his face.

"Mark," Paul said, then slowly repeated the question announcing each word. "What did the note say?"

Mark extended his bloody hand toward Paul's direction to hand over the note. Paul read the note outloud.

"I accept your challenge for a match at Survivor Series. You had better accept my challenge..." Paul looked at the last words of the note, then looked up at Glen, fear appearing in his eyes for his friend. He looked down at Mark before finishing the note without having to read it. "...if you ever want to see your wife and child again."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Undertaker's music hit again later on that night on RAW. The crowd erupted once again when he appeared. However, he was wearing only his wrestling gear. No hat, no coat. Instead of his steady walk to the ring, he heavily strided in his stepping and the look on his face said, 'Stay out of the way. I mean business.' He entered the ring quickly without the theatrics. He then, in no uncertain terms, demanded for the mic. His music ceased and he took his place in the middle of the ring.

"Alright. Earlier tonight, I issued a challenge for anyone who thought they were man enough to face me at Survivor Series. After making it backstage, I found that my room was ransacked and a note was waiting for me. I read the note, and became furious. I even went as far," he raised his bandaged right hand "as to punch a hole in the mirror in my room. This is what the note said. It said 'I accept your challenge for a match at Survivor Series. You had better accept my challenge...if you ever want to see your wife and child again.' "

An audible gasp escaped the mouths of the capacity crowd.

"Now...if there is one thing you don't do when it comes to me, don't...mess...with my family...cause I will hurt you. SO! Whoever you are, get out here. I want to know who my opponent is. I ain't got all night. Get out here. NOW!"

He turned his whole body towards the ramp. Seconds later, Michelle walked onto the ramp alone. Undertaker didn't hesitate another second. He dropped the microphone to the mat and left the ring in haste. Before he could take a step onto the ramp, Paul Heyman stepped onto the entrance ramp, Kaia in his arms looking terrified. This sight of Paul Heyman holding his child made his blood boil. Then a familiar guitar riff sounded throughout the arena, followed by boos from the crowd.

Brock Lesnar stepped out onto the ramp, then his music ceased after about a minute. Undertaker stood there locking eyes with Brock, the man whom had defeated him at Wrestlemania just last year. Brock walked over to Kaia, whom was still being held by Paul. Undertaker began to seethe and a scowl appeared on his face. Brock reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair away from Kaia's face, and she quickly turned away from him.

"DON'T YOU TOUCH MY DAUGHTER!" Undertaker screamed up the ramp.

A sadistic smirk shown on Brock's ugly mug of a face as he walked towards Michelle. He stood in front of her, skimming her body with his eyes. He then turned his eyes towards Undertaker before pulling Michelle close and kissing her smack dab on the mouth. Undertaker had seen enough. He balled up his fists and stalked towards the man whom had the audacity to kiss the woman he loved.

"BROCK!" Paul hollered out interrupting the sexual assault.

Brock stepped away from Michelle as Undertaker quickly approached. Undertaker pulled his fist back to sock Brock right in the jaw, only for Brock to make the cowardice move of pulling Michelle right in harms way.

"NO!" Michelle screamed, ducking her head, shutting her eyes expecting the blow... but the blow never came.

Undertaker, at the very last second, stopped himself mid-swing before his fist connected with his wife. His eyes widened in shock and he began panting. He abruptly dropped his fist to his side as Michelle slowly opened her eyes, and raising her head. Tears were falling from Michelle's eyes as she looked up at her husband.

"I'm so sorry, Michelle," he whispered.

If his wife's eyes had not distracted him, he would have been better prepared to see the back of Brock's hand flying in his direction. He didn't know what had happened until the sudden shock and surprise of the blow sent him to his knees in front of Michelle.

"MARK!"

"DADDY!"

He tried to shake the cobwebs off. He could tasted a trickle of blood on his lower lip. Brock pushed Michelle aside, and delivered a vicious kick to Undertaker's mid-section, rolling him all the way to the ring. He curled up in a ball, favoring his ribs, groaning in pain. Brock grabbed Michelle by the arm and led her down to where Undertaker lay. Paul followed behind still holding Kaia, or trying to cause she was squirming so much. Brock walked over and rolled Undertaker onto his right side so he could look deep into his eyes. Brock reached for the mic on the edge of the ring. Brock placed the bottom of his boot onto Undertaker's neck, pressing down on his windpipe.

"I accept your challenge, Dead Man," Brock mocked. "I'll even put my title on the line. But to make it more interesting, I'm adding your precious family to the mix. Here's how it will go. If you beat me at Survivor Series, you get not only the belt, but you get your wife and daughter back. BUT! IF! you lose...and you will...you not only _don't_ get the belt, you will never see your family again. We will call this match, 'For All Or Nothing'."

Brock removed his foot from Undertaker's neck and buried the tip of his boot deep into Undertaker's abdomen. Just then, Kane's music hit and he walked out onto the ramp. The crowd cheered at his appearance. They erupted louder when they saw the entire male locker room step out with him.

"GO!" Kane instructed to the majority of the men around him, and they gave chase to Brock, and Paul.

Brock through Michelle over his shoulder. He and Paul took off running around the ring, through the bell-keepers area, then through the crowd. The wrestlers kept chasing them through the crowd as Kane and a few other guys made their way towards Undertaker. Kane knelt down in front of his friend, aiding him to a sitting position.

"Can you stand up," he asked. Undertaker nodded. "Help me out, guys." Kane, and the other men assisted Undertaker to his feet until he stood upright against the ring apron. He still favored his ribs as he stood.

"Where are they?" Undertaker demanded between breaths.

"Some of the guys chased them through the crowd."

"They...have my family...THEY HAVE MY FAMILY!"

Kane grasped Undertaker's face in his hands "Listen to me. You need to have a clear head going into this match at Survivor Series."

"I want my family back."

"You'll get them back."

"They will pay," Undertaker growled. "Brock...Lesnar...will...pay."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The bell rang to signify the beginning of a match between Ryback and Rusev. Before they had a chance to lock up with each other,

*BONG*

Ryback, Rusev, Lana, and the referee turned their eyes towards the ramp. The lights went out in the arena as that familiar somber tune came over the arena speakers. Undertaker walked out and by his walk, he meant business. He was irked and irate. He had that don't-mess-with-me look in his emerald green eyes. He hurridly made his way into the ring and demanded for a microphone. As soon as his music ceased, he brought the mic to his mouth and began his tirade.

"Ryback, unless you want a fist in your mouth, you had better leave this ring this instant. Same goes for you, Rusev, unless you want an American-sized beating."

The two competitors, Lana, and the referee made their way backstage. As soon as they were out of sight, Undertaker began to speak once more.

"Tonight, I am not the one to mess with. I am not in a good mood." He paced back and forth in the ring. "This past Monday night on RAW, Brock Lesnar and Paul Heyman crossed my path. Mistake number 1. Lesnar, Heyman, I know you're not here tonight. But I hope you will be listening. This past Monday night, I issued a challenge to anyone who had the _cajones_ to face me at Survivor Series. Obviously, Brock answered that challenge. That was his second mistake. His third mistake was involving my family taking them captive against their will. You do NOT mess with a man's family. That is something you just...don't...do."

He let the words linger over the crowd before continuing.

"Mistake number 4. Brock, you touched the hair on my daughter's head, then beat me up in front of her. Her crying haunts my sleep. But _before that_, mistake number 5. You had the nerve to put your slimy, disgusting lips on my wife. Let me tell you something, boy. You don't touch my child and you don't kiss another man's wife. EVER!"

The crowd cheered in agreement with Undertaker.

"Let me tell you something else. This is not the Undertaker talking to you. This is the real me, the real man. This is Mark Calaway talking to ya. This match may be for the belt, but you decided to make it more personal by involving my family. The beatings I've given you in the past will be nothing compared to the beating you suffer at my hands at Survivor Series. Here's a warning for you. If you ever, and I mean ever, as _so much_ as harm one hair on my child's head, if you ever put your hands on my wife, it will be the last thing you will ever do. And one last thing, Lesnar, if you're not a praying man now, you had better start. You had better pray to the Good Lord above that He will show you mercy for your sins..." he growled the last 3 words. "because I won't."

Mark Calaway threw the microphone to the mat. Just then, a voice sounded throughout the arena, almost in a whisper.

"Mark..."

Mark turned his eyes towards the titantron. The sight of Michelle made his heart flop.

"This is a pre-recorded message. We are not at the arena. So don't come looking for us. I just wanted you to know that Kaia and myself are unharmed. Brock and Paul said as long as we don't cause any trouble, we will be fine. Plus, I just wanted to wish you all the luck in the world on your match at Survivor Series. I love you, Mark Calaway."

Mark's hands were wrapped tightly in a white-knuckle grip around the top rope of the ring. The camera in the video pulled outward a little bit revealing Kaia at her mother's side.

"Honey, is there anything you want to say to your father?"

The camera zoomed in on Kaia's face. She looked so scared. She looked directly into the camera and spoke softly.

"I hope you win the match. I love you, daddy."

The word 'daddy' tugged at Mark's heart strings. The video cut off shortly. Mark's body shook as he backed away from the ring ropes. Tears began to mist his eyes. Mark wanted to be strong, but the hurt of a loving husband and a caring father was hard to hide. His hands covered his eyes as he collapsed to his knees in the middle of the ring. His hands formed fists as he lowered them from his face. He began panting and seething. He wouldn't want to see his family in such a vunerable state, knowing then that at that moment, there was nothing he could do at that time to help his family. He rose to his feet, his hands clenched in rage. Mark screamed out at the top of his lungs, his voice carrying out.

"BROCK! YOU'RE A DEAD MAN!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Michael Cole was doing a sit-down interview with Paul Heyman and the WWE World Heavyweight Champion Brock Lesnar.

"Gentlemen, thank you for sitting down to do this interview. If you don't mind, I would like to get started. My first question is for this. Brock, what made you want to challenge The Undertaker at Survivor Series?"

Brock just turned his eyes in Paul's direction. Paul turned his eyes towards Michael.

"If you have to ask the questions, you will be addressing them to me." Michael sighed uneasily. "Let me explain something to you, Michael. Okay? My client, Brock Lesnar, is very confident that he can beat The Undertaker. He knows, without a shadow of a doubt, he can beat him."

Michael Cole cleared his throat before asking the next question. "Um...okay. But, Brock is the WWE World Heavyweight Champion. Brock could have just challenged him for the belt, yet you went and made it very personal; by abducting his wife and daughter. Why would you go so far as to messing with a man's family?"

"I'll answer that," Brock piped up. "Here's the thing, Cole. I knew what I was getting myself into in the first place. Anybody knows anything about me knows that my mind is twisted and sadistic. I wanted to see what made Undertaker...wait...let me rephrase that. I wanted to see what made _Mark_ tick. I wanted him at his weakest. I wanted him vulnerable."

"Brock, don't you think that instead of this supposedly making him vunerable, it has just made him more angry?"

"Cole, didn't you see him last week on Smackdown after he saw that video of his family? Didn't you see him hit his knees in that ring in front of the entire world? Paul loved it. I loved it. That sight brought joy to my black heart. I'll take him on at whatever state Mark is in. At Survivor Series, I will leave him lying on that mat like I did at Wrestlemania 30. He will be nothing more than a beaten, defeated mess. After the night is over, I'll be taking my title and his family with me. He will never be able to look at himself in the mirror the same way again. Now, I believe I have a match to prepare for. This interview is over."

Brock Lesnar grabbed the title laying upon his lap and walked out of the room with Paul Heyman following behind.

Michelle and Kaia sat in a dimly-lit room. Michelle's back rested against a wall while she held Kaia in her lap, caressing her hair providing a mother's love and care for her child.

"Mommy, I'm thirsty."

Michelle reached for the bottle of water resting by her right thigh. She twisted the cap off and held the bottle to her daughter's lips as she drank. She removed the bottle from her mouth after Kaia took in several gulps.

"Better?" Kaia nodded.

Michelle took a sip before replacing the cap and setting the bottle aside. She looke down at Kaia. Kaia rubbed her eyes as a yawn escaped from her.

"Tired, honey?"

Kaia answered with another nod. Michelle pulled Kaia closer to her chest and kissed her little head.

"I miss daddy."

"I miss him, too, baby. Why don't you just close your eyes and try to get some sleep, okay?"

Kaia closed her little eyes, her head resting against her mother's breast. Michelle rocked he back and forth. Michelle began to sing softly to her, the song her father always sang to her.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away."

Michelle kissed her sleeping child on her forehead.

"It will all be over soon, Kaia." Michelle whispered. "It will all be over soon."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"_Then by the power invested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."_

_Mark stepped up to Michelle and kissed he on the lips to the cheering and clapping of those in attendance of their wedding._

At least that's what the home movie played back. Mark sat in his living room in Texas watching videos of his wedding day. He walked over to the tv to change the video, then sat back down on the sofa.

_"Mark! Put that camera away!" Michelle said on the tape. _

In this tape, Michelle was 6 months pregnant with their first child together.

_"I look ridiculous."_

_ "You look beautiful, Michelle," Mark reassured her._

_"I look ugly and fat!"_

_ "You're gorgeous, baby. Trust me."_

Mark laughed at the chatter on the video.

_"I look like a cow." Michelle complained._

_"Bull."_

_ "BULL?! Now I look like a bull, Mark!?"_

_ "NO! Bull as in 'Bull manure'. I meant that as in I don't believe you when you say you look like a cow." Michelle walked up to Mark and slugged him on the left shoulder. "OW!"_

_ "How's THAT for 'bull manure?"_

Mark laughed at the debate on the tape before heading to the kitchen letting the video continue to play on. The sounds of Kaia's 2nd birthday party filled the house.

He walked over to the fridge and opened the door looking for a beverage. He saw a budlight on the bottom shelf and reached for it, then haulted. He knew he wanted his head to be clear going into the match at Survivor Series. He also knew that if he drank one beer, he would drink another, and another, and another. He reached for the milk instead. He walked over to a cabinet, opened it, and retrieved a glass from one of the shelves.

_"Okay, Kaia. Blow out the candles." Mark said to his then 2 year old._

Mid-pour, Mark turned to see Kaia blow out the number 2 candle on her cake. Everyone clapped and cheered as Mark kissed the side of her head.

_"Mommy! Daddy! I did it!" she stated gleefully._

_ "Well, done." Michelle commented._

_ "Good job, sweetie." Mark added._

Mark walked back to his chair, glass of milk in his hand. He took a drink as the video continued on. Kaia was sitting on her father's lap eating some cake, which was in bite-sized pieces.

_"How's the cake, sweetie? Is it good?" Michelle asked as she recorded the video. Kaia shook hear in satisfaction. Kaia held out a piece of cake towards her mom. Michelle took it and popped it into her mouth. _

_ "Mmm. That is good."_

_ Kaia held out a piece of cake towards her father. Mark slightly opened his mouth allowing his daughter to pop the food into his mouth. He chewed happily licking the frosting from his lips._

_ "Mmm. Yummy."_

Mark downed the rest of his milk as video changed to Kaia wrestling with her father on the living room floor.

_"No, daddy! No!" Kaia called out as she was being tickled on her stomach. _

_ "Give up!" Mark demanded playfully._

_ "NO!" Kaia called again._

_ Mark rolled onto his back, lifting his daughter above his head as he laughed. He positioned Kaia to stand upright. Kaia grabbed ahold of his right arm the best she could and lowered herself to the floor applying her version of an armbar. _

_ "AAAAAH!" Mark cried in mock pain. "NOT THE ARMBAR!"_

_ "Tap out, daddy! Tap out!" Kaia demanded._

_ "Never..."Mark hissed._

_ "Make him tap, Kaia." Michelle said off camera._

_ "Hey! Who's side are you on?"_

_ "Tap, daddy!"_

_ Mark tapped his daughter's small leg. _

_ "The winner of this match as a result of a tapout, Kaia Calaway!" Michelle announced. "Let him up, Kaia." _

_ Mark made it up to his knees with a 'defeated' sigh._

_ "Did I hurt you, daddy?"_

_ "Nah. I'm tough. Good match."_

_ Mark extended his arms out towards Kaia. She ran into his arms wrapping her tiny arms around her father's neck. _

_ "And the match ends in a hug for a truce." Michelle stated._

_ "I love you, daddy," Kaia said as she looked up at her father._

_ "I love you too, sweetheart." Mark kissed her on the cheek. "Look at the camera. Give a little wave."_

_ The duo waved happily._

_ "Hi, mommy."_

_ "Hi, darling. I love you both."_

_ "We love you too."_

Mark sat his empty glass on the tabletop to his left, then rose out of his chair and turned off the tv. He was still a little thirsty so he opted for that beer after all. He grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge, then went outside to sit by the pool to rest underneath the stars.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The next morning, Glen was driving up to Mark's house. He put his rental car in park in Mark's driveway. He unbuckled his seat belt, then exited the car. He walked up to the door and knocked on the door.

"Mark?" he called out. "It's Glen. Are you there?" He waited a few seconds before knocking again.

"Mark?"

Glen twisted the doorknob and the door opened inward. Glen stepped inside the foyer closing the door behind him. He listened for a brief second. Silence. He walked towards the living room. No sound, no Mark.

"Mark?"

Glen made his way to the kitchen and looked around. A picture on the fridge caught his eye. He walked over to the fridge and removed the picture off the refrigerator door. The Calaway family was at the circus. Glen just sighed at the picture of the happy family. He looked out the window above the sink and that's when he spotted him, passed out on the patio furniture by the pool. Glen walked out of the kitchen door leading towards the pool.

He spotted empty beer cans lying around him; 6 to be exact. When Glen stood next to the still form of his friend Mark Calaway, he just simply shook his head in disappointment.

"Oh Mark..." Glen whispered to himself.

Glen pulled his right foot back and kicked the chaise lounge with enough force to wake Mark with a jolt. Mark rubbed his eyes and his sight soon focused on the man beside him.

"Glen..." Mark panted. "You startled me. What are you doing here?"

"Paying you a visit."

Glen reached down and grabbed the side of the chaise lounge and tipped it to the right until Mark landed stomach-first with a grunt on the side on the cement walkway surrounding the pool. Mark groaned softly as he made it to his knees.

"So much for having a clear head."

Mark rose to his feet, then stepped around the toppled-over furniture. Glen picked up an empty beer can. "What are you doing, man?"

"I had a few drinks."

"More than a few drinks." Glen chucked the can at Mark's forehead.

"First, you wake me up, you tip the furniture with me in it, and then you throw trash at my head?"

"Cause you deserve it. How's your head?"

"It hurts."

"Being wasted and hung over will do that to you. You deserve that too. You know what else you deserve?"

"What?"

Glen grabbed Mark by the back of his shirt and jeans and tossed him into the deep end of the pool. Glen walked over to the side of the pool as Mark came up for some air.

"WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!" Mark demanded as he swam to the edge.

"Do you want your wife and daughter to see you this way?" Glen knelt in front of Mark whom was gripping the side of the pool. "Maybe it's a good thing they're not here to see you in such a pathetic state."

"You son of a..."

Glen reached forward and forced Mark underwater. He could feel him struggling beneath his grasp. Glen waited approximately 15 seconds before removing the hand from the water causing Mark to emerge out of the water. Mark gasped and coughed as Glen rose to his feet. After fully catching his breath, Mark climbed out of the pool. He rose to his feet, soaking wet, facing Glen. He gave him a shove backwards.

"YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?!"

Glen gave a shove of his own. "If I wanted to kill you, I would have held you down a lot longer than 15 seconds." Mark shoved him again. "Cut it out, Mark. Please?"

"Make me." Mark challenged.

"What?"

"I said, 'Make me.' "

Glen slapped Mark hard across the cheek causing him to stagger back a step. Mark looked at Glen as he rubbed his sore face.

"Now, I'm not asking you this time. I'm now telling you. Cut...it...out."

Mark balled up his fist and took a swing at Glen. Glen ducked out of the way and connected with a right hook of his own to Mark's nose causing him to land on his stomach once again. Mark groaned again holding his nose as Glen rubbed his fist. Mark sat on his butt looking up at his friend. He pulled his hand away from his nose. Yep...blood. Blood poured from both nostrils.

"Broken?"

"Mmm-hmm," Mark answered with a scowl.

Glen aided Mark to his feet. He positioned his hands over Mark's nose and popped it back into place with a satisfying *POP*

"Better?"

"I hate you," Mark hissed through gritted teeth.

"No you don't. Come on. Let's get you inside the house and clean you up."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Mark way lying on his ocuhc with a rag under his nose. Glen came into the living room with 2 Tylenol, a glass of water, and an ice pack.

"Sit up, Mark," Glen requested.

Mark steadily sat up on the sofa, propping his feet upon the coffee table in front of him.

"How's the nose?"

Mark pulled the rag away from under his nose. It had stopped bleeding. Glen passed the medicine and the glass of water to Mark. Mark downed the pills quickly, then sat the glass on a side table to his right. Mark then took the ice pack from Glen's hand and carefully placed it to the left side of his nose.

"Thanks, man."

"You're welcome. Sorry I did that by the way."

"Don't worry about it. I took the first swing, you acted on pure instinct. I deserved it."

"We're getting back on the topic of 'You deserved it.' again." Mark chuckled softly. "You can hit me if you want to."

"Maybe later."

The living room was filled with silence for a few moments before Mark spoke up.

"What were you doing here anyway?" Mark asked.

"I dropped by to check on you to make sure you were alright and weren't doing something stupid."

Mark made a sideways glance to his friend.

"So much for not doing something stupid. What were you doing? What were you thinking?"

"That's just it. I wasn't thinking. I didn't plan on passing out last night after having 6 beers. I didn't plan on having 6 beers period. But once I had one, 1 led to 2, 2 turned to 6. Then...well, you saw the end result."

Mark placed the ice pack on the coffee table, then walked over to the fire place. He glanced at the different sized pictures of his family. His hands rested on the siding of the mantel as he looked at the pictures of his wife and child at the beach, him and Michelle at a backyard barbecue, their wedding picture. In every picture facing him, smiles appeared. He thought he would smile at the photographs, but he felt sorrow, lost, a broken man knowing who had his wife and daughter. He hung his head low, eyes closed.

"It's my fault," he mumbled to himself.

"What did you say?" Glen asked.

Mark turned to face his friend. "It's my fault, Glen," he repeated his voice slightly cracking with emotion.

"Why do you say that it's your fault?" Glen asked rising to his feet. "None of this is your fault. I don't ever want to hear you say that again. Do you understand? It's Brock Lesnar's fault this happened. Don't blame yourself for his actions towards you."

"But if I hadn't have..." Mark huffed a breath.

"If you hadn't have what, Mark? Tell me."

Mark began to raise his voice in reply pacing back and forth. "If I hadn't have brought them to the show that night, they would have been safe from harm! Because of me, Glen, that no-good, washed-up, muscle-headed SOB wouldn't have them in his clutches would he? My family was taken from me because of me. BECAUSE OF ME!"

Glen walked towards Mark. "Mark, stop it. Right now. None of this happened because of you."

"Oh, really, Glen! Then how do you explain their current predicament?! Tell me that. TELL ME THAT, GLEN!"

"I CAN'T EXPLAIN IT, MARK! Nobody can explain the mind of that man or Paul Heyman. NOBODY! The only ones that can explain it is those two themselves. Now like I said, NONE of this is your fault so stop blaming yourself."

"Don't you understand, Glen? It is all because of me. I failed them. I haven't been able to eat, sleep, or think straight because of this. I haven't been able to look at myself in the mirror. If I had not been in that ring that night to make a challenge for that match, I could have been back in that room to at least _attempt _to protect them, but I couldn't even do that. I failed them. I failed as a husband, as a father, AND as a man. I failed them, Glen. I FAILED THEM!"

Mark walked over to the nearest wall, balled up his fist and punched a hole through it. The impact of fist hitting wall caused Glen to jump slightly. Mark panted loudly. He slammed his back against the wall, and slid to the floor. Mark pulled his knees to his chest and the sounds of sobbing escaped his body. Glen had been Mark's friend for many years and in all these years, he had never seen his friend like this; ever. He had never seen Mark look so lost, so vulnerable, so defeated.

Glen sighed softly before walking over to where Mark rested and knelt before him.

"Mark...look at me." Mark kept his eyes downward. "Come on, man. Look at me."

Mark's heart-broken green eyes tugged at Glen's heart strings. He hated seeing him this way.

"What if I fail at getting them back? I'll never see them again?"

"Mark...you won't fail. You will do whatever you have to do to get your family back. You will rescue them. You will succeed. I believe in you. Michelle believes in you. Kaia believes in you. The guys and gals of the locker room believe in you. The fans believe in you."

Mark began to lower his head only to have Glen place a finger under Mark's chin, lifting his head back up.

"You will get your family back and get that title too."

"With all due respect to the title. I don't care about the title. I care about my family. I just want my family back."

"You will, my friend. You will."

Silence filled the room once more as Glen rose to his feet. He extended his hand down to Mark. Mark grasped Glen's hand and he was assisted back to his feet. Mark wiped the tears from his eyes before speaking again.

"Come with me," Mark said walking out of the living room.

"Where are you going?" Glen asked following behind.

"Down to the basement where my gym is. I have to train. I need your help?"

"My help?"

Mark reached the basement door. Before opening it, he faced Glen again. "Yes. Your help. I have a match to win. I have some butt to kick. I have to get my family back."

Glen smirked lightly tapping Mark on the left cheek. "That's the spirit, lad. Come on. Let's get started."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Survivor Series night; Houston, Texas. Kaia sat cuddled next to her mother on the floor of the boiler room. Brock stood by the door, smirking smuggly. Paul Heyman paced back and forth in front of Michelle and her daughter.

"Oh, ho, ho," Paul chuckled rubbing his palms together. Tonight is the night. I hope you're ready, Brock."

"Oh, I am," Brock answered.

Paul turned his eyes towards the girls. "Tonight, somebody's life will change...forever." He walked towards Michelle and Kaia. "For your sakes, you had better pray that things work out. Then again, maybe they won't work out the way you want them too."

"You monster," Michelle sneered.

"You're ugly," Kaia said.

"Now, now, now, Kaia." Paul began to say. "It's not polite to call people 'ugly'. Your mother should teach you proper manners."

"Don't tell me how to raise my child."

"Well, if you won't teach her some respect, then I guess I'll have to."

"Kaia," Michelle addressed. "Please cover your ears and close your eyes."

Kaia did as her mother requested. Michelle rose to her feet. She pulled her right arm back and, with all her might, slapped the taste out of Paul's mouth. Paul rubbed his sore cheek, casting an evil glance towards Michelle.

"Your husband will pay for that." Paul remarked. He walked towards Brock and led him out of the boiler room, slamming the door behind them.

Michelle heaved a sigh. She turned to see her daughter still had her ears covered and her eyes closed. She sat down beside her and softly tapped her on the shoulder. Kaia removed the hands from her ears and opened her eyes. Michelle pulled her daughter into her lap cradling her in her arms. Michelle gently pushed the hair out of her daughter's eyes before they were closed again in sleep. Michelle rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes in an attempt to get some rest herself.

Mark stood in the bathroom of his locker room gazing at his reflection, his hands resting on the sink. He looked at himself clothed in his Undertaker gear. Thoughts of his wife and daughter raced through his head. A knock sounded at his door.

"Come in."

Mark turned to see his friend Glen enter the room. He shut the door behind him. "Hey, Mark."

"Hey, Glen."

"Tonight is the night."

"Yep." came Mark's soft spoken answer.

Glen approached his friend. "Hey. Look at me." Glen held Mark at arm's length. "It's all gonna be okay. You will get your family back. You will."

"I know I will. I'm just worried."

"About what?"

"What if they hurt them? What if I find a mark on my wife or a mark on my kid?"

"Mark...they wouldn't lay a hand on them if they knew what was good for them. Not a chance."

"I hope you're right."

"I am right. Now, what do you say? Are you ready to lay a Texas-sized butt whoopin' on Brock Lesnar?"

"Yes. Yes I am."

Glen smirked. He saw Mark's hat sitting by the sink to his left. He reached over picking it up and placed it atop Mark's head.

"Now that's the Undertaker I know. Ready to go?"

Mark turned to look at his reflection once more before turning his eyes again onto his friend. "Let's do this."

"Come on. Let's go."

Glen led Mark to the locker room door and opened it letting Mark exit the room. Glen closed the door behind him and they walked together towards the gorilla's position. However, when they were almost to the stairs leading to the gorilla's position, men and women of the locker room, referees, anybody working that night, lined both sides of the hall. They cheered and applauded in respect for the 20 plus year veteran of the WWE. They parted like the Red Sea allowing him to pass through the crowd of people.

Cheers of 'Go get 'em, Undertaker!' 'Good luck, Taker!' 'Win that title!' 'Get your family back!' surrounded him. He walked up the steps to the gorilla position where Paul Levesque and his wife Stephanie waited for him. Paul walked up to him, hand extended.

"Mark, I can't imagine what's going through your mind right now. I wish this never had happened to you. But when you go out there, I want you to hurt him. I want you to deliver a beating of a life time to him. Go out there and show him what you're made."

"I will."

Triple H pulled him into a friendly hug before releasing him. Stephanie walked up and hugged him tightly. She added a kiss on the cheek.

"Go get your family back."

"I will."

Mark turned to look at the monitor to see Brock Lesnar standing in the ring, ready for a fight. Brock's music continued to play in the background as Mark looked at Hunter and Stephanie.

"I want you both to do me a favor."

"Anything," Paul replied."

"The next time you see your little girls, hug them, hold them tight, tell them you love them. Promise me that."

The couple looked at each other. Paul pulled his wife close to his side.

"We will," Stephanie answered, her voice cracking slightly.

Mark gave a nod to them both before turning towards the curtain. Brock's music ceased and the crowd began to Undertaker's name.

"Undertaker! *CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP* Undertaker! *CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP*

The chant went on for another 20-25 seconds until...

***BONG***


End file.
